


like some kind of mirage

by renaissance



Series: #jbweek [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call it the Sapphire Isle, ostensibly for the skies and the waves, but there has always been suspicion that name has a deeper meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like some kind of mirage

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3's theme is "favourite symbolism"—I think my choice of symbolism will be fairly evident! To shake things up a bit, this is a canonverse AU, and also I've used up my weekly allowance of [song lyrics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qE1zAO6OQbg) as a title. Hope you enjoy!

The Isle of Tarth, off the coast of the Stormlands, is famed for its crystal-clear waters—few in Westeros ever venture there, for Tarth is home only to a small community, mostly fishers, and is of little import in the political machinations of the Seven Kingdoms. They call it the Sapphire Isle, ostensibly for the skies and the waves, but there has always been suspicion that name has a deeper meaning.

Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock was one such invidual who suspected that Tarth mined and hoarded sapphires. Tarth was, by all accounts, prime land for farming and cultivation, and yet it had never once been invaded, had never become embroiled in any conflicts. There had to be some secret—some reason why Tarth stayed so perfectly isolated. And if that secret was sapphires—well, Tarth would be a powerful ally to the Lannisters, who presided over the greatest wealth in the Seven Kingdoms, drawn from the gold of the Westerlands.

For many months, Lord Tywin corresponded with Lord Selwyn Tarth, but he was never able to ascertain whether or not the island harboured sapphires. For all Lord Tywin’s canny language, Lord Selwyn kept his secrets well, and after so many letters back and forth, Lord Tywin was none the wiser.

He knew Lord Selwyn’s weakness, though—his only surviving child, barely nineteen, Lady Brienne of Tarth. Although if the rumours were to be believed, Brienne of Tarth was no Lady. She stood tall and broad, and fought alongside men. Still, as far as Lord Tywin was concerned, an heir was an heir, and if there were sapphires on Tarth, then he would do everything in his power to make them the sapphires of Casterly Rock.

It was with this in mind that he sent his eldest son, Ser Jaime Lannister, to the Isle of Tarth. Jaime was charming enough that he would easily become friendly with Lord Selwyn and Lady Brienne, and if all went well he would find out whether or not Tarth had a wealth of sapphires. If they did, Lord Tywin’s instructions were clear: Jaime would marry the heir and tie the two families together, in fate and in wealth.

Jaime’s journey to Tarth was slow—after crossing the breadth of Westeros, he spent two nights in King’s Landing, waiting for a boat that would take him along the coast. It was a calm journey, and calmer still were the waters of Tarth, just as blue has the tales told. As Jaime’s boat approached Tarth’s harbour, fishing boats swarmed around it and fishers leaned over the edge, straining for a closer look—it was not only Tarth that carried a reputation with it, after all.

Lord Selwyn was ready to receive Ser Jaime at the steps to Evenfall Hall—the manor was no Casterly Rock, and Jaime thought privately that it was lucky he would not be there long. He would meet the heir and find out if the island was full of sapphires—he would do the absolute minimum to ensure that his father felt the mission had been a success.

Although the day drew long, Jaime didn’t meet the heir to Tarth until their evening meal. He easily grew tired of Lord Selwyn’s company, but meeting his daughter was something else entirely.

“You must be Lady Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime said. It took most of his strength to keep composure—she was tall, taller than him, maybe, and unsightly—but she bore herself with some semblance of dignity.

She did not reply.

On his second day on Tarth, Jaime asked Lady Brienne to show him the sights of the island. On his fourth day, she relented, and took him along the shore. She wore men’s clothing, and did not look out of place as a commoner amongst the fishers. Jaime, on the other hand, stood out gregariously in his finery. Tarth was a modest island, though, and so on his fifth day on the island, Jaime dressed simply and asked Brienne to show him some inland sights.

It was a peaceful day, and although Tarth was acquiescent to the will of the winds, its trees stood still and the boats sat placidly in the harbour.

“I will show you the rainforest,” Brienne said. “Tarth is famed for—”

“My Lady,” Jaime interrupted, “you speak as though we are strangers. Please, show me the sights as a friend, not as a visitor.”

“As you wish,” Brienne said. She was quiet, and Jaime understood that she did not wish them to be friends. However, if there were sapphires to be found on Tarth, they may be forced to become friends.

The rainforests on Tarth were not far from the sea—just as everywhere on the island—and the air was heavy with the smell of salt and sand. Jaime felt dwarfed by the trees, and overwhelmed by the green. Casterly Rock had no such relationship with the sea—there, the waters reflected the grey of the sky, and the only thing that shone was the gold. Tarth was _different_. It was as though every plant grew to be the plant that drew your eye with its beauty.

A river cleft a path through the trees, and Brienne paused at a junction where the water flowed over rocks and forked in two.

“It is beautiful,” Jaime commented. If he were a more poetic man, he might have found better words to describe the sights he saw, but he was a knight, and his way was more with the sword than the pen, so he settled for “beautiful.” It was the only word he had ever heard used for Tarth, after all.

“It is,” Brienne agreed.

“They call Tarth the Sapphire Isle,” Jaime said, willing his voice to sound idle and casual. “Is there any truth in the name?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes, and Jaime knew immediately he had taken a step out of turn. “You are asking the wrong person,” Brienne said. “I am not so involved in the—in the community of Tarth.”

“Ah, of course,” Jaime said, “for you are _nobility_. It would not do for a Lady to—”

“Do not call me a Lady,” Brienne said, an almost pleading edge to her voice.

“What would you have me call you?” Jaime asked. “A beauty? A knight?”

Brienne turned away.

“I’ve heard tell about your skill with the sword,” Jaime continued. “Perhaps I might trouble you for a demonstration?”

“Perhaps you might trouble someone else for your tours in the future, Ser Jaime.” With those parting words, Brienne left him alone in the rainforest to think about what he might have done to offend her.

Days passed, and Brienne had not so much as a word of platitude for Jaime. He grew restless, dissatisfied that he still had not found out whether or not there were sapphires on Tarth—although it was more his father’s desire than his own, Jaime desired the knowledge too, if only so that he could leave the wretched, beautiful island.

And so, on his eighth day on Tarth, Jaime ventured alone into the rainforests, deep among the trees. If there were sapphires, then they were being mined, and it was hard to hide a mine from plain sight. The coastlines were so exposed that any mine would surely be towards the centre of the island.

It was a clouded day, and when Jaime was so far that it would have been foolish to turn back, the rains began in earnest, sending water sliding from the tips of large, glossy leaves that would have looked just as resplendent in sunlight. He could not find shelter, so he pressed forward, seeking any sign of a mine—and if he found nothing, he would assume there was nothing, and return home to Casterly Rock.

“Ser Jaime!”

He stopped, trying to see where the call had come from. Brienne of Tarth was running towards him, her hands signalling wildly.

“You did not have to follow,” he said, sounding more petulant than he had intended.

“I did not follow you,” she said, catching up to him. “I was sent to find you, after it was reported that no-one knew your whereabouts.”

Jaime did not reply. She had come all this way, and yet she was not out of breath. Her hair hung like straw, dampened by the rains, but her eyes shone the clearest sapphire blue he had ever seen.

“You are searching for some hidden treasure,” she stated. “I knew, ever since you asked me.”

“If there are no sapphires,” he began, “then why do you call it the Sapphire Isle?”

Brienne frowned. “It is _symbolic_ , Ser Jaime, for the blue of the waters. There are no sapphires on Tarth. I am sorry you have come all this way for a misunderstanding.”

“I am not sorry,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from hers. “My sole regret is that we are not better friends, Brienne. Will you show me the way back to Evenfall Hall?”

“Have I any choice?” Brienne asked.

“None,” Jaime said, turning and leading the way.

 

_To my Lord Father, Lord Tywin Lannister of the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,_

_It has been near a month since my arrival on the Isle of Tarth, and I may say with confidence that I have experienced the Island to the fullest. But I must disappoint you—there are no sapphires on Tarth. I will marry the heir, nonetheless._

_Ever your son,_

_Ser Jaime Lannister_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment!


End file.
